


Does Your Mother Know?

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Bottom Harry, M/M, One Shot, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rimming, Top Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:58:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> There’s a look in Harry’s eyes that Louis can’t quite believe he’s seeing, a kind of hunger, and it takes a good deal of willpower to ignore it. “So you’re just a kid. Does your mother know that you’re out propositioning strange men?" </i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I wrote a one shot inspired by an ABBA song. It's a new low. Also vague Brian Kinney undertones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Does Your Mother Know?

Louis knows he’s not too old to go clubbing, but he’s definitely within that uncomfortable grey area. Zayn, who at 29 still possesses the glowing skin and lithe figure that Louis so admired when they met seven years earlier, is able to drink and dance all night, smoulder some stranger into coming home with him and show up to work the next morning looking none the worse for it, apart from an unseasonal pair of sunglasses. So tonight he's dragged Louis out too, not quite understanding that for the mortal members of the population it isn't so easy to fit in with the young, athletic types that frequented Fever or Rumour or whatever bloody club they're at now. The saddest is thing is that he remembers what it was like to be on the other side; when he was a brand new university drop-out dressed up in shiny hot pants and covered with body glitter Louis was well-acquainted with strangers’ desire. Add a decade, a job with long hours, and shake with an uncomfortably hot business suit to make the perfect disappointment cocktail.

“Your problem’s confidence,” Zayn shouts over the pounding music, as he hands a tenner to the topless bartender and a full shot glass to Louis. “Drink this, grow the fuck up and put yourself out there, ‘cause you’re fucking hot, all right?”

Louis shakes his head, but takes the shot and ignores the burning in his throat. “What the hell am I doing here?”

“Come on, Lou. Sure, you’re not a perky little twink anymore. So what? Besides,” Zayn glances over his shoulder and nudges his best friend, “someone’s checking you out.”

“Don’t bullshit me.” Louis looks over and, sure enough, there’s a man - no, a _boy_ \- standing at the edge of the dance floor staring at them. They lock eyes for a split second through the smoky lighting and he grins. “He’s looking at you, not me.”

Only a few seconds after Zayn’s eye roll, he feels a hand touch his from behind and turns to see the boy standing right there, leaning against the bar. Up close he’s even more beautiful, almost (and Louis winces at the mental comparison) _cherubic_. Cheeks flushed from dancing, dark hair curling around his face, and even, since the cheeky grin hasn’t gone anywhere, dimples. He’s taller than Louis but lanky, and it doesn’t help that he’s wearing an imitation of a school uniform - striped tie around his sweaty forehead, an unbuttoned white shirt and knee-length black shorts. 

“Buy me a drink?” he asks, leaning close, and Louis can’t help but admire his audacity along with the rest of him. Zayn has conveniently disappeared, leaving him to navigate the situation alone and unequipped.

“You sure you’re old enough to be drinking? Assuming you came dressed your age.” But even as Louis smirks, he’s waving over the bartender. One drink can’t hurt, right?

“I’m in here, aren’t I?”

“They’re making better fake IDs these days, I guess,” he shrugs. Harry just keeps on grinning and orders for both of them - something fruity and brightly coloured that Louis has to admit he enjoys. Harry sucks eagerly on the strawberry that comes on the side of the glass before even touching his straw, whilst Louis watches a little too intently. 

“It’s school-themed tonight,” he explains, craning his neck down to shout in Louis’ ear. “I assumed you’d come as the sexy teacher.”

Louis suddenly understands the assortment of knee socks he’s been seeing all night and scoffs. It’s like they’re rubbing it in. “You’re cute.”

“I know. So are you.” When Louis looks away, he adds, “I mean it. I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Look, Harry, I…You got your drink, yeah? Go find someone your own age.” He looks at the group of young men gathered at the other end of the bar, most of whom are watching Harry. “Or at least someone a bit closer to it.”

The grin falls away to make space for a surprised frown, bitten lip and all. “I don’t care about the drink. And I don’t want someone my own age. I want _you_.” He leans in even further, places his hand on Louis’ knee and slowly starts to slide it upwards. 

Louis jumps and clamps down on it with his own, blurting, “Slow down, I’m thirty-one.”

“So?” 

There’s a look in Harry’s eyes that Louis can’t quite believe he’s seeing, a kind of hunger, and it takes a good deal of willpower to ignore it. “So you’re just a kid. Does your mother know that you’re out propositioning strange men?”

Harry sighs and intertwines their hands, then downs the rest of his drink. “At least dance with me.”

“I don’t dance.”

He pouts. “Please?”

Louis hesitates. One dance, then he’ll find Zayn and leave. Surely that's fine? But before he has a chance to decide Harry’s pulling him into the mass of people on the dancefloor.

There’s something about the alcohol and the flashing lights and the way Harry moves his hips, wrapping his arms around Louis and pressing their bodies together. It takes a little getting used to, but they’re only a couple of minutes into the first song when Louis starts to let go and he feels different - free, sexy, _wanted_. Because despite all the odds Harry’s all over him, ignoring other hopeful admirers in favour of clasping Louis’ hand and fingering his waistband and leaning in-

“- I can’t,” Louis mutters, with no chance of being heard. Harry tries again - and again he turns away.

“I’m legal, you know,” he says, grabbing Louis’ neck and talking right into his ear. “Just let go.”

The third time, Louis lets their lips press together and he tastes sweet like the drink, the music is ringing in his ears whilst Harry’s tongue is slipping into his mouth and Louis allows himself to do what he’s wanted to since he saw Harry across the room: touch. He places his palms on the smooth skin of Harry’s stomach, slides them down and back and all over until he can’t stand it because, god, this boy has got to be fucking _magical_ \- and he pulls away to look at him. Harry smiles, but it’s different this time, and Louis knows what that smile means. It’s the smile of a boy who knows that he’s got exactly what he wanted.

“Fuck it,” Louis breathes. “Do you wanna come back to my place?”

***

They’re in the taxi, and Harry still can’t keep his hands off him. Louis remembers what it’s like to be a teenager overrun with hormones, but this one takes it to the next level, grabbing at every inch of his body within reach right there in the back seat. And the things he says, it feels so wrong to hear them come out of those sugar-pink lips and yet it makes Louis ache and clench his hand into a fist and wonder how fucking long this journey's going to take anyway.

Harry grabs Louis’ tie and whispers into his neck, breath warm. “I meant it about you looking like a sexy teacher, you know. I swear to God if you taught me I’d sit in the front row of every lesson daydreaming about how I want you to bend me over the desk and fuck me. I’d mess around so you’d make me stay behind and I’d ask you to punish me the way you really want to. I’d-” 

“- Jesus, Harry, you’ve been watching way too much porn,” Louis mutters back, acutely aware of his raging hardon and the taxi driver’s rearview mirror. In response Harry attacks his neck with kisses, loosening the tie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt and sucking on the skin beneath. “Take it easy,” he pleads, to no avail.

They tumble out of the taxi on Louis’ road, he hands over what’s probably way too much cash whilst Harry hangs onto his waist and together they stagger up the stairs to his apartment, never letting go of each other.  
“How old are you really?” Louis asks once they’re inside, throwing his jacket aside and leading Harry towards the bedroom.

“Eighteen, honestly. I know I look younger.”

“How long ago did you turn eighteen?”

Harry is silent for a few seconds, grazing his hand along the bulge in Louis’ trousers, then murmurs, “Four days.”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis moans. “I’m going to hell.”

“See you there.” He continues his lazy groping and Louis fumbles to undo his trousers, needing to be touched on bare skin. Harry giggles. “What happened to ‘take it easy’?”

“What, now you want me to wine and dine you first?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re a fucking tease. Don’t you dare smile, do you have any idea how crazy you were driving me in that taxi?”

Harry’s face turns serious. “I’m sorry. What do you want me to do?”

Louis pauses. Is he really gonna do this - order around an 18-year-old boy? He’s so eager, ready, waiting for instruction. Fuck. Of course he’s gonna do it. “Strip,” he demands. “And get on the bed. On all fours.” He does his best to feign disinterest whilst Harry obliges as quickly as possible. Once Harry’s on his hands and knees on the bed, facing the blank well, Louis starts to get undressed himself, talking as he does so. “Are you a virgin, Harry? Don’t move.”

“No.” 

Louis takes this opportunity to drink in every inch of the boy with his eyes, laid out on a platter just for him. He leans over Harry to reach the bedside table and retrieve the condoms and lube. “How many guys have you let fuck you?”

No reply. 

“Harry, answer me.”

“...A few.” His voice is quivering a little and Louis smiles. What must it be like? To be so vulnerable? To want to be touched so badly and not even be able to look?

“School friends?”

“Yeah. Louis, please can you-”

“Be quiet. Listen. This isn’t a quickie behind the bike sheds. I’m not some schoolboy, all right? I’m a man, and I know that you want a man to fuck you. Isn’t that why you came out tonight?” The sound that comes out of Harry’s mouth is less of a ‘yes’ and more of a groan, but Louis understands. “All in good time. But first, you’re about to learn what it feels like to _not_ get what you want.” He crawls up on the bed behind Harry, spread his cheeks and leans in to lick to his hole, to the sound of an appreciative soft moan. He takes his time, wetting the sensitive area with saliva, making long, slow circles and then finally pushing his tongue inside Harry. Gasping, he bucks his hips up to bury Louis’ face deeper inside him. 

“Feel good?” Louis whispers when he comes up for breath.

“Amazing,” he sighs.

“It’s about to feel better.” Aided by lube, he slips his index finger into Harry and starts to slide it in and out. Again, the boy pushes back into his touch.

Harry’s next words are polite, but insistent. “More...please…”

“Be patient.” After a while, Louis adds another finger, then another as Harry writhes on his knees. He tries to balance on one arm for a second, reaching back, and Louis quickly says, “Don’t touch yourself.” There’s a soft whimper, but no further protests. Wondering how long Harry can last - he may be experienced but he’s still young, and a lot of this is new to him - Louis crooks his fingers down to stroke Harry’s prostate, and is rewarded with his loudest moan yet. Continuing to apply varying pressure, Louis reaches between the boy’s legs with his other hand to stroke his leaking cock, matching the rhythm of both movements. Painfully hard himself, almost gives into the temptation to fuck him right now, but he has to show Harry. Only a short while later, he can hear the boy’s breathing hitch and asks, “Are you close?”

“Yeah…” Harry breathes. “Louis, I’m gonna…”

Louis waits, perhaps a second or two and then, in the right before he can reach climax, removes his hands entirely. The effect is immediate and incredibly satisfying; Harry cries out, his arms collapse and he flops face first onto the bed, pushing his hips forward desperately to try and gain stimulation.

“Back on your hand and knees,” Louis snaps. Slowly, panting, he pulls himself back up and resumes his position, just as Louis has a change of heart. “Actually, turn over and lie on your back. Legs spread. I want to see your face.”

He obliges, faster this time, and Louis’ erection throbs at seeing how much he wants to please. “You’re being good, Harry. So good. Just a little longer, ” he murmurs, looking into the boy’s glazed eyes as he nestles himself between his legs. As he reaches for the lube again, Louis can’t help but admire how utterly wrecked Harry looks - red and sweaty and hair sticking in all directions, yet still earnest. Still blissful. Can still handle more.

Harry draws in a deep breath when Louis enters him, rubbing his shaft at the same time, and closes his eyes, tipping his head back in pleasure. When Louis starts to move, he leans forward again and reaches up to pull the man’s face down to him.

“Kiss me,” Harry murmurs, and Louis forgets for a second who’s supposed to be giving the orders around here. The tight feeling of Harry around his cock combined with his ravenous, messy kissing - it’s too much. He’s close already, but, importantly Harry is closer. “Oh, my God…” he hisses as they pull away from each other. “Just like that, don’t stop-” 

Just as Harry is on the brink of orgasm, Louis slows down, and this time he gets a painfully beautiful, up-close view of the reaction. Harry _whines_ , thrusts his hips upward, scrabbles at Louis and the sheets with his fingernails, screws his eyes shut. 

“Louis, please, I need to...I have to…”

“What do you want?” he asks, caressing Harry’s cheek as he continues with excruciatingly slow strokes. 

“I want you to fuck me harder. Please. Fuck me and don’t stop. I’m sorry for teasing you, I’m sorry, sir-”

Louis doesn’t need to hear any more. He picks up the pace, slamming into Harry and simultaneously pumping his cock until, with something between a sigh of relief and a shout of pleasure, Harry comes all over his stomach and Louis’ hand. Louis follows shortly afterwards, falling forwards and kissing the boy beneath him as he climaxes.

They lie there, chests heaving, for a minute, until Louis, one eyebrow raised, props himself up on one elbow and asks, “ _Sir?_ ”


End file.
